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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763683">Roses and Thorns</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerKisses/pseuds/SunflowerKisses'>SunflowerKisses</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Growing Up Together, Shotgun Wedding, Unplanned Pregnancy, Young Arthur Morgan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:09:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerKisses/pseuds/SunflowerKisses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once there was a little girl and a ragged boy from the streets. She is the beautiful rose and his life is full of thorns.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first attempt at writing for this fandom. So many of you have inspired me to take a chance and put my ideas into words. <br/>Current relationships: Hosea and Bessie Matthews<br/>Dutch VanDerLinde and Unknown woman: resulting in a daughter Carolina VanDerLinde</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Prelude</p>
<p>August 9, 1887, Casper Wyoming<br/>	“Papa! Papa!, Come see the doggies!” The raven haired girl smiled animatedly and pointed to a box of squirming pups in the wooden crate. They wriggled and yipped as she stuck her small hand into the crate and scratched them behind their floppy ears. Her giggles reached the ears of her papa who smiled down at her. <br/>	“Carolina, dearest, we can’t take one with us you know. I’m sorry.”  Carolina responded by pouting, her lower lip sticking out onto her quivering chin. <br/>	“Papa, please!” She cried, stomping her foot. “I’ll take care of it, I promise! You said I could get something when we came to town.”<br/>	“Dearest, I meant a book or some candy, not a dog. Now, come on.” The man reached down and grasped her gloved hand in his. “We have to meet Uncle Hosea at the hotel for dinner and you know he gets grumpy when we are late.”  Carolina took his hand sniffled as her papa nearly drug her away from the crate of puppies and down the dusty road toward the run-down hotel. She shuffled her black boots in the dust as she plodded along next to him, her chin still pointed at the ground.  Down the street, Hosea Matthews stood on the wooden stairs leading up to the hotel casually smoking a cigarette with the other hand tucked into his front pants pocket. Spying the forlorn look on the little girl’s face, he frowned and threw his cigarette to the dirt. <br/>	“Well, Dutch, what did you do to her now? She looks mighty mad right now.” A chuckle erupted from his lips and he met the man’s stony glare. <br/>	“She wanted a puppy and I said no.” Dutch responded softly with a sigh. “Sometimes this child is impossible.”<br/>	“Well old friend, she does take after her father.” Hosea laughed. “Come on, the ladies are waiting for us inside.” Stooping down to meet Carolina’s eyes, he took her chin in his hand and pulled her face up to meet his gaze. “Sweetheart, Bessie and Susan are waiting for us, are you hungry?” Carolina met his stare and nodded her head slightly. She reached out with her free hand and took Hosea’s hand in hers. Both men led her into the hotel where a warm meal and a cozy bed waited for them.</p>
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<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>August 10. 1887 Casper, Wyoming<br/>       "Shit!" Arthur yelled as he dodged the apple the store keeper threw at his head. "Get back here you goddamn rat!" The man yelled. "Police!! Thief" The portly man's face was beet red from screaming for the police and waving his arms in Arthur's direction. <br/>     Arthur stole a glance behind him as he darted down the dark alleyway. He could see the policeman headed in his direction and he ran faster. His chest ached from a combination of his heaving breaths and his fear of spending another night in jail. His bare feet skidded in the mud as he rounded the corner and he stumbled just enough to drop the loaf of bread he had tucked into the rope tied around his waist holding his pants up. " Hell!" He shouted snatching up the now muddy loaf and regaining his footing. He huffed and gasped as he tried to climb up the wooden fence at the end of the alleyway. His muddy hand slipped and he stuffed the loaf of bread into his mouth so he could grasp the boards with his other hand. His scraped and clawed digging his fingers and toes into the wet wood as he threw himself up and over the fence. He landed with a thud onto the grass on the other side, dusted himself off and scampered up the hill behind town. After a few minutes he was sure that the policeman had given up the chase and he slowed to a walk, chewing on the loaf of bread still clamped in his teeth. Sweat ran down his gaunt cheeks mingling with the mud on his pale face. Skeletal fingers pinched off chunks of hard bread and he chewed on them happily. At least tonight he could stave off the pain of hunger. He stopped under an apple tree and picked a fruit off of low hanging branch to complete his dinner. A gentle  rain began to fall and he shuddered. Pulling his holey shirt tighter around himself, he sat down under the apple tree and curled his legs underneath himself to keep his toes warm. It was the end of summer, nearly fall. Fall meant winter was coming again. A moment of fear crept into his mind as he remembered nearly freezing to death last winter. Too many nights spent huddled under buildings surrounded by stray animals and hay he had stolen from the stable. Another cold winter alone, starving, afraid, and lonely. Gazing at the apple in his hand his mind wandered back to the time his mother had made apple pie one cool autumn day. He remembered the warmth of it on his tongue, the crispness of the apples and the sweetness of the sugar she had sprinkled on top of the crust. He envisioned her smile as they ate on their small porch. He could almost hear her voice singing those Welsh hymns as she worked around the house. Reaching up to his face, he swiped away the tears that had started to fall. Crying did no good, it made you weak his father said. Being weak caused you to forget your surroundings. That meant death.</p>
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